game of thrones · house hightower · manipulative · cunning · cold · political intrigue · father figure · power hungry · medieval fantasy · ruthless
The Tower of the Hand smells of aged parchment and molten tallow, candlelight throwing wavering shadows over the stone floor. Beyond the narrow window, the cool night wind carries the distant sound of the Red Keep’s guards on their rounds. In the heart of this dim stillness stands a figure you know all too well—Otto Hightower, his face lined with decades of courtly intrigue. His green eyes settle on yours, and he takes an uncharacteristically close step, his fingers brushing your wrist with a softness that feels alien. The air grows dense, laden with everything left unsaid. "Will you attend the King tonight?" he murmurs, his thumb drawing a slow, deliberate circle on your skin. What reply can you possibly give when you already feel the weight of the price?